Murderer's Exile
by Omnipotent Shrew
Summary: A man is exiled to Middle Earth from his homeworld because of a series of murders he committed. This is about his struggles in a foreign world. Set shortly before the second War of the Ring.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, or anyother work by J.R.R. Tolkien

"Bring the convict forward," called a clear, powerful voice.

Several guards led a small, brown haired man into a large cavern that held about fifty people. They all had a variation of the same grave look upon their faces. This was not a duty that any of them wanted, yet they knew that this is what had to be done.

The guards led the prisoner to an open area in the middle. He was forced to kneel in the middle and his arms were chained to the ground using the customary titanium iron. He already bore the wrist band of this material, but it was always best to be safe when dealing with lunatics. No, the titanium would prevent him from reaching for the Power, and the guards would be able to restrain him.

"This man," continued the judge, when the guards had finished securing the convict," stands before us today convicted of high murder. He has been on a killing rampage, the last of these was the king himself. He has shown no remorse for his actions. You, the jury, have already found him guilty of these horrendous acts. Now, I ask you to allow the only fitting punishment for this crime: complete exile. This is the method that our fathers have placed before us for the most atrocious of criminals. I believe that he is the most fitting we have ever had in our long years of existence. Now you have been given two days to ponder upon this mans fate. I ask you: what is his sentence?"

The chairwoman stood, her dark eyes taking in the unkempt, unruly look about the murderer. The most despicable act any one can do, she thought,. How could anyone stoop so low?

"We sentence the convicted, Taren Notamalon, to a life of exile, on a unknown world. Never shall he be permitted to return among us till the end of our kingdom," she said with looks of complete loathing towards the Taren. "However, we feel that due to his mental state it would be making us murders to send him into another world with nothing. We feel that giving him at least the ability to understand different tongues would be a more humane way of sending him off. Our decision was unanimous and as we speak for the people of Ganshire, it shall not be overturned.

The man did not do as most would have in his situation, he did not cry out or beg for mercy from the jury. He simply knelt there with a look of smug satisfaction on his pallid face. Now they would remember him. The boy that had always been overlooked. Now who were they laughing at? He had done an act that no one else had ever dared to do. Now they would not remember him as the pathetic young man that was not worthy of promotion or notice. No that child was gone. In his place was this mastermind.

"Very well," the Judge said. Turning to the prisoner he felt a wave of disgust surge within him. He had known Taren from when he was a small boy. People had always had a tendency to pick on him because he was not athletic or academic. All he ever seemed to do was stare off into the clouds. He only participated in class activities if a teacher called upon him to do so. The ambition he had shown when he was older had always been overlooked by the elders, for they had always chosen to favor the ones that had shown initiative from an early age. Now, he had been driven to the state of insanity. No longer was he considered one of the dwellers, he was now an outsider . What was probably worse for Taren, he was now forever cut off from the Power. His abuse of the ability was always reason enough to bind someone's mind from ever touching the powers. No. This was how they had always done it. "Sentencing will be carried out immediately."

Several people in black uniforms stepped forward. They unbound Taren from the chains and forced him up on to his feet. One of them stepped forward and held his head tightly. Taren went rigid for several seconds, as if a jolt of electricity had gone through him. Then he went back to how he had been. The mage went back and joined the others, and they began to open the portal. There was very little challenge in opening this type of gateway. The reason for this was that the conjurer did not want to know where it was going. This was only for the punishment of the prisoner. He would cease to be the problem of this world, but become the problem of another.

It flashed into existence. The mages quickly checked to make sure the binding band could not be taken off and then pushed the convict through the gateway. Soundlessly, the portal closed itself; not even a shimmer in the air betrayed where it once stood. The mages had done their job and now the murder would not terrorize the people of the underground anymore.

Authors note: This is simply for my own practice. I would greatly appreciate constructive critisism as I am trying to improve my writing skills. I do not care if you are mean or nice, so if you don't like it for a reason and let me know so that I can try to improve.


	2. Chapter 2

A blinding light enveloped Taren, forcing his eyes closed. It was absolutely unbearable. He fell to the ground and covered his eyes with his hands. This relieved the pain a little, but it was only a temporary solution. It would not be possible to go wandering around without being able to see. He laid there for several moments contemplating what he should do. He could not magic a shield over his eyes, the band prohibited that.

He got to his feet and began to walk, one hand still covering his eyes. This was irritating to him. The years underground were not at all beneficial to this new way. It was probably what the others wanted: him in the brightest light imaginable and unable to even open his eyes. Taren began to wonder what sort of creatures lived in this world. It was not a good thought, as he immediately began to imagine the bloodthirsty creatures that lived in the surface caves of his old home.

He stopped walking. Directly in front of him the light seemed to be a little less bright. He lowered his hand slowly and could make out the outline of large column-like things. They were blocking the sun from his eyes and that made him feel grateful. He stepped closer into his shelter. He reached out and touched one of the pillars. They felt odd under his hand; they had an odd texture completely unlike stone. He stepped into their midst and was immediately thankful for the shelter. The awful light no longer tormented his eyes as badly as it had.

He moved further into the shade. Eventually, it became so dark that he could open his eyes a little bit. He was surrounded by the tall pillars. He could only see a canopy of leaves. He could not see very far in any direction.

Trees, Taren thought, that's what they are called.

History had never been a favorite subject for him, and trees were beyond a doubt in the ancient history of his people. They had not been above ground in over one thousand years. On occasion, a small group would jump to another world to gather a few supplies, such as the vegetables that did not grow below ground. No one but a selected few were ever allowed out. The other worlds were dangerous, supposedly. Only the brave and the hardy were chosen. Many of them never returned from the gathering expeditions. As Taren looked around the forest he thought mainly that they most not be all that tough. The bright light, sun, as he now remembered, had been troublesome, but nothing that he hadn't been able to overcome. There wasn't anything dangerous as far as he could see. There was nothing at all except for hundreds and hundreds of trees.

Bah, he thought, and they thought that he was too weak to take care of himself. No, he would survive without all of the special training and preparations. As he could now see fairly well, he decided to explore his surroundings more. He rose to his feet and began to walk. The ground was covered in a thick blanket of moss, making the footing odd, but very enjoyable.

He felt hunger start to gnaw at his ribs. Taren frowned. This was something that he needed to take care of reasonably soon. He began to look around at all the vegetation. With a smile, he saw a bush full of berries. Apparently, he would not have a problem finding food either.

Taren picked some of the ripe berries their tart juice filling his mouth the moment he bit into them. They had a taste that was previously unknown to him. Taren ate his fill of the little berries, allowing their pulp to settle into his stomach before rising again.

The darkness had now gotten much deeper, and, in the cave dweller's opinion, far easier to navigate. He wandered through the trees and began to wonder if this world was inhabited at all. To his unease, Taren began to feel as if he was being watched. He turned his head quickly, trying to get a glimpse of the eyes he felt, but he could see nothing among the trees. Still that feeling hung over him like a cloud of gnats.

"Hello?" he called into the surrounding tree trunks. "Who is there?"

No one answered his calls.

"Must be my imagination," Taren murmured, but he could not leave the feeling behind. He shook his head ruefully. There was no reason to be afraid of the shadows. Just out of his vision, the man thought that he saw something move. Whirling, he tried to see what was following him, but again nothing was there. Feeling his anger rising, Taren quickened his pace. Suddenly, he felt something grab him and he fell over. Rolling over he found himself staring into the eight large, many faceted eyes of a giant spider.


	3. Chapter 3

Taren opened his mouth, but no scream would come out. He felt terror consume every muscle of his body. The large pincers were lowering ever closer toward his chest. A dark, thick liquid was being secreted from them oozing down on to Taren's shirt and hair.

Suddenly, he felt himself become animated again. He rolled over and instinctively tried to reach the power, but he was blocked forever by that accursed wrist band. Panic flooded his mind. He had been raised to rely on his Magic to get him out of horrible situations, and now he would have to rely on his own limited strength. He looked wildly around, looking for some object that he could use as a weapon. All he could see were tree limbs. Maybe he could use one of those.

Taren scrambled to his feet. The spider barely missed his right leg in an attempt to bite him. He dove and grabbed a branch that he thought was reasonable for him to lift. Taren hefted it up and brought it up to meet the pincers of the spider. The branch broke with very little effort on the part of the monster. Panic grabbed him again.

This is hardly a painless way to die. The thought flashed through him and made him wish hard for training. He stumbled backwards, trying to get away from the beast. Pain. That would be his last feeling in life.

He tried to run, but with every step he took, the young man seemed to stumble over the debris of the forest. He fell onto his stomach and felt pain sear his leg. Taren tried desperately to move it, but it would no longer obey his instructions. Then, a far worse pain enveloped his senses. The pincers had burrowed into the soft skin on his back. Taren felt warm liquid begin to ooze down his back and soak his shirt, and then, nothing. His world fogged over and everything became numb.

0000OOOO0000

"What was that?" Rion asked his companions softly.

"It sounds like a spider has found something it wants to play with," came the answer from the youngest of the hunters, Celeg.

"Well that 'something' as you call it sounds like a person," Rion replied darkly.

"There is no reason for anyone but us to be this deep into the forest, therefore, I am content to leave whatever it is, person or not, to deal with the spider on it's own. I see absolutely no reason for us to go endangering ourselves for the sake of a deer, rabbit or any other creature!" Celeg snarled back.

"Be still, Celeg. I think that Rion is correct. That sounds like a human trying to avoid being killed by one of our spiders. It is not right to allow someone to die for no better reason than we don't want to help," the eldest of the party said softly. He peered through the forest with his dark eyes. He could not see very far with the trees blocking his way. "Tithen, how many torches did we bring?"

"Five, Cadhrawl, one for each, like we normally do," the addressed replied.

"Alright, so we will light the torches and attack, or am I wrong in my assumption of your plan?" the tallest of the elves asked Cadhrawl.

"That is the technique that has always worked before; there is not a safer one that I am aware, so yes, Narufinnel, you are correct in your reading of my plan."

They five hunters lit their torches and slipped through the trees. Rion felt uneasy when the sound of the fight grew still. There were only two reasons for that, and only one seemed likely: That whatever was being tormented was no longer alive, that there was no longer anything to rescue. He looked towards his elder brother, Cadhrawl, to try to read his feelings on this, but his face was void of emotion. Looking ahead, Rion could now make out the large spider leaning over the still form of a body.

"Alright," came the hissed order, "run forward and brandish your torches. If you have to, shoot at it, but try not to. That will make it angry, and then it will be even harder to deal with. The light should scare it off enough."

"Yes, sir," Celeg hissed moodily.

The five elves ran at the spider yelling and brandishing their torches. Rion waved his torch and made as much noise as he could bear. The spider turned as fast as its large bulk would allow and shrieked with terror at the light that the elves bore. It reared up on its back legs and tried to fend off the attacks. It scurried backwards and ran into a tree. With another shriek, it turned away and ran off into the dense forest.

"Narufinnel," Cadhrawl said urgently to his companion, "Aren't healing and health issues your specialty?"

Wordlessly, the tall elf slid over to where the injured person was lying. The being was wrapped in a thick web and when Narufinnel un-wrapped his head, they could see that he was deathly white and expression if the utmost panic was written on his face.

"Is he dead?" Rion asked softly.

"No, the spider just used its venom to numb him. Didn't you pay attention when you were being taught? What are they teaching you now? How to stare at nothing?" Tithen said sarcastically.

"Now isn't the time, Narufinnel, is the captive going to be alright?" Cadhrawl quarried.

"Yes, but I think a better question would be "What is he."

"What do you mean?" Tithen asked sharply.

"I mean this fellow is way too small to be a human, but now that I have him unwrapped, it is apparent that he is not a Hobbit either. He is beardless as well, so not a dwarf."

"Hmmm, well we will ask him when he is conscious again. Right now, I think we need to get him to a more hospitable region of the forest," Cadhrawl said with an extremely aggressive air, pushing his dark hair back from his face. This was a habit that Rion knew all to well as the sign that Cadhrawl was nervous and wanted to get away from a situation.

The five elves quickly arranged themselves in a formation that was as protective as possible. Cadhrawl went first, caring his torch and knife. In the middle, Narufinnel carried the still form of the injured person. Rion and Celeg went to either side of him, still carrying torches, defending their friend if anything should decide to dare the light. Lastly Tithen came, looking warily around for the spider and holding his torch. They did not have far to go; it was not far back to the home of the wood elves.

Authors note: The elfish names I did my best with. I used a name generator for them as I didn't have a whole lot to go on.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing that Taren became aware of when he awoke was a horrible headache. The second was that his entire abdomen burned as if it were on fire. The memory of the spider flooded back into his mind with a feeling of horror. Where was he? The spider must surely be near. He had been unconscious, unable to fight. There was no way that he had been able to escape.

Hurriedly, he began trying to get away from wherever he was. Something was constricting his chest. The man began trying to yank it off of himself. He felt it give a little as he thrashed even harder. A pair of warm hands grabbed his own hands, and began to restrain him.

"Calm down," a calm voice commanded, "I do not want you to destroy the work that I have done on you."

Work, Taren thought, what sort of work? Was this person attempting to use him some how? Was this how it was going to be? He felt the hands on him relax just a little. Seizing the chance, he raised his won arm up swiftly and bit the hand of his captor. The scream that followed was a thrilling award.

"Narufinnel, what just happened?" a woman's voice called. How many were there? This was not good at all.

"He just bit me. I don't think he realizes that we have no intentions of hurting him. How are we going to calm him, Lathron?" the man said. Taren opened his eyes and saw that there were two tall people, one male and one female in the room. The room that they were in was small and clearly belonged in a cave. This was the most familiar to Taren and it made him feel a little more secure.

How much trouble will they be? The man had said that they were trying to help him. Was it an act? It was possible that they were going to hurt him. He realized that the constricting object was a bandage that had been placed over the spider bit.

The man turned his gaze upon Taren and saw that he was watching them. Narufinnel, that was what the woman, Lathron, said his name was. He strode over and looked down at him, keeping a slight distance from Taren.

"Do you understand what I am saying to you?" he had switched languages, presumably to the most common language of this world.

"Yes, I understand you," Taren replied.

"Good, at least we don't have to trouble with language barriers," Lathron murmured in the first language. Don't let them know that you understand both languages, he thought.

Ignoring Lathron's remark, Narufinnel turned back to Taren.

"What is your name?" he asked.

What should I say? Should I give my name, or make one up? Would it do any harm to lie? Would it do good to speak the truth?

The truth won't hurt in this matter. A name is just a name. A first name is generic enough, but the family name, better not bring that into it.

"Taren," he said. Keep the answers simple. Nothing should be complex.

"Where are you from and what are you doing in Mirkwood?" was the next question.

What should I give as answer? Saying that I am a convicted murderer from Ganshire was probably not an answer that would get him out of suspicion. However, there was really not an answer that would be acceptable to these people, not that he could make up. He wished that he knew where he was. Geography would be a good knowledge to have of this world. Then he could invent a past that was more acceptable.

Invent a place. That would be what he would have to do. Say it's a small place to the east. Traveling. That is a good excuse. Traveling to visit an aunt or uncle. Yes. That was the best excuse he could give in this circumstance.

"I am from a small town in the east," Taren said, allowing a calm he did not feel to enter his voice. "I am going to visit my aunt and uncle, whose child is gravely ill. I am good friends with my cousin, and I wished to see him soon, in case his condition becomes worse."

Narufinnel looked at him closely. Trying to find lies in my statement, are you? thought Taren. Try to show emotion, this isn't too much different from when they interrogated me about the murders. I fooled them for four years, and they knew me. No, these two shouldn't be too hard to fool.

His face became more drawn, he willed tears to wet his eyes in grief for his "cousin." They came quite nicely. The tears trickled down his cheeks and wet his pillow.

"There is no reason to cry, little one," Lathron said softly, placing her arm around his shoulder. A sharp pain ran through Taren at that. He let out a yelp.

"My skin! What is wrong with my skin?"

"I am sorry. I forgot about that. Your skin burned in the sun. You really should spend more time outside if this happens every time you step outside."

Taren stared down at his normally white hands. They were now the brightest shade of pink he could imagine. Every time something touched his skin in an area that had been exposed to the sunlight, pain shot through him.

"When will this pain go away?" he asked with sincere anguish in his voice.

"Oh, a couple days. I will give you a salve to deaden the pain a little," Lathron said sweetly.

"I am sorry to break up this little conversation, but his answer was not the best. What town are you going to and where are you coming from?" Narufinnel said crisply.

"Give it a rest until he is healed a little more properly. Then I am sure he will give you and, anyone else who desires them, satisfactory answers."

"You do realize that the king might have an interest in this matter? People who trespass are usually questioned directly by him. Taren might well be what he says, but these are not times to be taking in stray people. There are spies in the most innocent of guises."

Abruptly the door opened with a loud bang, and several more people entered the room, crowding it even more than it was already.

"He is awake, well that's a better state than when we last saw you. So Narufinnel, have you figured out what he is? We have been in the library since we got back and we haven't found anything that really describes him," the smallest of the four said, looking at Taren with bright, eager eyes.

"We haven't asked yet…."

"And we won't be asking until he is recuperated better," Lathron interrupted sternly. "I do not want my patient to be jostled and harassed until you undo all of the work that I have done."

"Library?" Taren said eagerly. "May I go to the library? You said that it would be a few days until I am fit enough to continue on to my cousin's village. I would dearly love to go to the library and read. That is a gentle enough activity, isn't it?"

"Taren, under the present circumstances, we can not let you go wandering around in our halls. Normally, there would not have been such a problem, but in these days, we must be careful of who we trust," Narufinnel said gently.

"What is going on to make it such a problem?" He inquired innocently. He didn't know, and any knowledge of this new world was more than welcome.

"Please do not play stupid," the person that had been lagging back before hissed. He had a sour look on his face and did not seem pleased at all about anything that was going on. "War is what is going on. And unless you have been living in a hole in the ground, you know. We will be dragged into it, of course. Ever since Mithrandir brought that creature here we have been expected to join. It's a good thing it escaped, too, if it hadn't we would have…."

"Celeg, for such a suspicious person you have loose lips," one of the newcomers said. He was looking at Taren as if he were trying to glean his emotions of this news.

"I understand. I only hope that I can win your trust while I am here, even though it is only for a few days," Taren said quietly.

"Please forgive my rudeness. I have not made any introductions," Narufinnel said tiredly. "I am Narufinnel, as you may have gathered from the conversations around you. This is Lathron. The smallest of the ones who have just recently come in is Rion. The tall one with the dark hair is Rion's elder brother, Cadhrawl. The one that has been a little bundle of sunshine since he stepped in the room.."

"Since he was born," muttered Rion.

"Is Celeg," continued Narufinnel as Cadhrawl gave his brother a reproving glare. "And lastly is Tithen," and the remaining person raised his hand in salutation. "As I am sure you have inferred, we are all Sindar elves and are in the kingdom of Mirkwood."

"I thank you for the introductions, Narufinnel. It is a very great relief to know who I am speaking to. Please forgive my ignorance of current events. My village is small and rather secluded, so we do not get that much news."

Taren knew that this would probably be a good enough lie to subdue suspicion for at least a little while. It would do. The bandage around his chest was now back in place securely and Lathron was telling the other elves to leave. These people would not be difficult to manipulate into giving him information. Rion and Lathron would probably be the best for his purpose. He could stretch the time he was to spend here at least a little until he could invent a convincing story for other people he met. He needed a hometown as well. Taren frowned at this thought. He needed one soon, before someone who knew how to interrogate came to interview him. The Cousin needed a village as well.

With a sigh, the young man let himself sink farther into the pillows. He would get the information he needed soon. Rion or Lathron would unknowingly give it to him. Hopefully, the older ones would not get in the way. Cadhrawl and Narufinnel were far too level headed for him and Cadhrawl was likely to protect his little brother from manipulations.

Taren's frown deepened. This might take a bit of finesse, but it was nothing that he couldn't handle. He would win this little game; he usually did.


End file.
